


The Shadow Behind Them

by geniewithwifi



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angel and Demon, Angel/Demon Relationship, Beauty and the Beast, But he saves her, Curses, Dark Character, F/M, Felicity does some stupid things, Hades and Persephone, Implied/Referenced Incest, Manipulative Relationship, Nephilim, OFBB 2016, Olicity Fic Big Bang 2016, Oliver is NOT a white knight, Oliver saving Felicity, Parent/Child Incest, Really Really Really Dark Themes, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Supernatural Elements, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewithwifi/pseuds/geniewithwifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity is on the run from her past-- a curse that haunts her every footsteps.  She's trying to keep Oliver Queen out of her business and safe, but he's too nosy for his own good. Just when she thinks she's safe, the unthinkable happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, THE BIGGEST THANKS IN THE WORLD TO @writewithurheart. Nicole has basically walked me through this whole thing. She's dealt with me changing stories in the middle, she's been patient with my whole weird demands BETA THIS RIGHT NOW thing I have. She's been amazing. The best beta and friend I could ask for. 
> 
> Second, to the amazing @itchyigo who made the FREAKING FANTASTIC Fanart below. FOR REAL. Third, to thatmasquedgirl who dealt with my freakouts and beta'd the first bit of my story. 
> 
> Last, to you readers. Those who don't give up on me and comment on my stories. This is for you. 
> 
> Enjoy.

 

**September**

 

The room was dark, the only light in the room coming from the single laptop. On the nightstand, next to the bed, red numbers spelt out the time-- 4:00 am. Witching hour.

There was a girl, a young woman actually, frantically typing on said laptop, a pot of cold coffee next to her with an empty mug within arms reach. Without pause, she reached over and attempted a swig-- swearing when she realized that the mug was empty.

She paused then, glancing to her left. In a vase, on her bookshelf, stood a single rose. Or what was left of a rose. The vase held a stem, with sharp pointed thorns, leaves that one would typically find on a rose, and one single petal, quivering, and threatening to fall. All around on the top of the bookcase, onto the floor scattered more rose petals. Some were shriveled, having fallen a long time ago. Others were as fresh as just fallen raindrops.

The quivering petal abruptly fell, disconnecting from the stem. With that simple event, a cascade of flurry followed it.

First, a swear word.

“Shit.”

She slammed the laptop shut, still cursing. Immediately opening it again, and finishing typing, a beep with empty promises, and then another slam shut. Whatever she had been trying to do had failed, and it was now time to move.

The laptop went into a messenger bag, which went over her shoulder. One last glance at the bookcase revealed that the rose had put itself back together again. It was whole, every petal gleaming. But it was no longer the dark red it had been. Instead it was glowing, a bright golden color.

Not as familiar with the supernatural as her mother had been, she could only guess as to why a dead rose, a magically enchanted count down timer, had reformed. Her only explanation was very basic:

He had found her.

She didn’t want to stay here, to be a sitting duck. So she ran. She grabbed the laptop, double checking that it was secure against her hip and fled out the door.

Ignoring the elevator, she darted to the staircase, taking them down two steps at a time.

She refused to be taken by him, refused to be subject to the curse of the Smoak women. She would not pay the price her great grandmother had caused to come down upon her. The result was always the same, and she wanted no part of it.

In her panic, she tripped, falling down the stairs. Hands hit first, followed by knees and a shoulder as her momentum caused her to roll. Groaning at the pain radiating from the points of impact, she struggled to stand again. The need to escape was at war with her body protesting the abuse it was being subjected to.

A hand entered her vision, clear despite the fuzziness of the world. She must have hit her head... or lost her glasses. A quick check has her glasses still securely on her face. Remembering the hand still extended towards her, she follows it up to the person it’s attached to, terrified to see _him:_ the monster, the _incubus_ known as _the Captain._

But all she saw was a man. An extremely handsome man, with deep blue eyes, in a fine tailored suit. It wasn’t the demon promised. No horns, no wings, no glowing yellow eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Even his voice was beautiful, a low tenor that sung to her soul. She took the proffered hand, the blurriness fading to a dull ache in the back of her head. She rubbed it as stared at the man.

“I think I’m good.” She tried to take a step but wobbled precariously, vertigo swimming around her. He caught her at the elbow, steadying her.

“Easy there. Wait just a--”

“Did you see something chasing me?” She interrupted, impatient, the need to escape high again. ” His mouth quirked, as almost has she had just told a joke before it quickly vanished.

“No. There was no one. Just you.”

“Okay. Good. Thank you, I’m just gonna...” She stumbled away from him, using the wall and then stair rail to keep her balance.

“Wait!” He called after her, taking the stairs faster than she could in her current state. “You forgot your bag.”

“Thank you...”

“Oliver.” He supplied, tipping his head.  
“Thank you, Oliver.”

“Wait, aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

She shook her head.

“Please?”

She sighed, but turned around. “Felicity.” She indulged.

“Let me take you to a coffeeshop. You can tell me what you’re running from,” Oliver said, leading her down the stairs. She was still wary of him, of what he might do or who he could turn out to be. But he seemed normal enough, right?

The stairs were still swoopy, still fuzzy from the bump on her head and she was grateful that she had Oliver to help keep her balance.

She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder every couple of minutes, dreading to hear the sound of racing footsteps or that humming sound again.She hugged her messenger bag closer to her.

“Why are you helping me?” She asked, as he held the door of the exit open for her.  “I’m just a random stranger.”

He smirked, as it seemed he really liked to do around her and said nothing, just accompanied her to the café down the street. He was gentlemanly; opening doors, letting her walk through first, guiding her gently with either a light touch on her elbow or a firm palm on her back. Both were not unwelcome. Everytime he touched her she shivered, a tingling down her spine. Her mind brushed it away—it was early morning after all—she had been up all night working, searching.

Searching for a way to destroy her mother’s killer.

 

Oliver set her in a booth then went to the counter to order. Left alone with her thoughts she felt the urge to abandon him, to just vanish from this booth and his life. Even if he was just a normal guy, and not a demon, she would just bring hell upon him.

She slid out of the booth, shouldering her bag, but she only got two steps before Oliver was back in front of her.

“Sit. And don’t go anywhere. I don’t want to have to track you down,okay? So don’t move.”

Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be maneuvered into the seat once more. Oliver disappeared into the back, into the staff entrance. She watched the door, curious. It was unusual for customers to cross that barrier, there are reasons the doors say ‘Staff Only’ on them.

Thirty seconds later his actions were explained. Oliver emerged with a small ziplock bag, full of crushed ice. He handed it to her.

“For your head.”

The words triggered the dull aching to increase, begging it’s agony. “Thanks,” she whispered, gingerly applying the seeping cold to her temple.

Oliver took a seat across from her, hands clasped on the table, just observing her. “What?” She asked after moments of silence. Waiting for him to talk was making her nervous.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” She echoed back, disbelievingly.

“Exactly. I know nothing about you, Felicity, besides the fact that something has you absolutely frightened.”

He held up a hand to stop her protests.

“You were sprinting down the stairs. You keep looking over your shoulder like there's a murderer after you. You are hanging onto that pack like it contains your life. Those are the signs that someone is in trouble. And I’m a kind of person who wants to help a girl in trouble.”

“I don’t need a white knight.” She snapped, startled that he could read her so easily.

“I’m no hero.” He responded. “But Felicity, let me say something very important. You are safe. No one is going to hurt you while I’m around, Okay?”

Felicity shook her head. “You don’t  know the people after me. Oliver, I don’t care how strong you think you are or how you think you can protect me: you’re going to get hurt. People who are around me tend to do that.”

Before Oliver could respond, the server interrupted, breaking the intense eye contest they found themselves in.

Settling back, grateful for the reprieve of conflicting opinions, Felicity’s eyes flicked to the server. “Thanks.” Her fingers enclosed over the warm cup. A short, blowing breath, cooled the liquid.

Oliver had his own coffee, resting on the table in front of him, his attention flitting between her and out the diner window. Felicity, on the other hand, wasn’t as calm and settled as Oliver appeared to be. She flinched every time the door to the diner opened, the tinkling of a bell announcing a customer’s entrance.

The first couple of people were normal-- an older lady, with a great purple hat and a magenta overcoat; a business woman who was constantly texting with an impatient tap of her foot, the third a couple, young and in love, the girl falling asleep on the guy while he ordered, the girl’s hands stuffed inside her boyfriend’s hoodie.

Felicity had started relaxing, just enough to start drinking her still too hot coffee when an older man walked in, with a brief case. He had an intense expression, anger rolling off him in waves.

Immediately, Felicity shrunk down in the booth, her head  barely above the table. Oliver noticed, and looked to where her gaze was fixed.

“Is that him?” Oliver whispered, covertly sneaking a peak.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Well, I’m not _exactly_ sure who’s after me. It could be him. I think it is. I don’t know.”

Felicity watched as the man surveyed the restaurant, dark eyes glinting. His big trench coat was smattered with rain, large, dark, and overbearing, the ability to contain a thousand ways to hurt her hidden beneath layers of leather. His hat was drawn low over his bushy eyebrows. His gaze paused on her for a second. A long, heart racing second. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver subtly grip a knife with one hand, reaching into his suit jacket with the other. Felicity mouthed and shook her head ‘no’, trying to stop him before he made things worse. She really didn’t want a full on freak out of the diner because a demon decided to transform to it’s true self in front of them.

That would be a mess on her hands. Besides the fact that he would then take her away and do who knows what with her.

The second passed and the man moved on, stepping up to the counter and ordering food, before waiting at the door.

Oliver visibly relaxed, his hand withdrawing from his jacket, but he kept a loose hold on the butter knife. Felicity refused to moved, watching the man as much as she dared. After a few minutes, he left with white takeout containers, his breakfast.

A normal guy.

Felicity let loose a giant breath, sitting up straight.

“I am so screwed,” she muttered, groaning, then taking a sip of her coffee. Oliver gave her a piercing look.

“Are you going to be like this every time a middle age man walks into this diner? Or looks at you from across the street? Do you know how ridiculous that is? Not in the funny, condescending way. Felicity, look: Let me help. _Please._  You can’t spend the rest of your entire life wary of something that might not even be after you.”

Oh. He didn’t know. He knew _nothing._ He knew nothing of the sacrifices her mother made, one that she paid for with her life. How Felicity always had a means of protecting herself, insisted by her mother. Oliver knew nothing of Felicity’s constant motion. Of moving every year, a new state, a new look, a new identity.

Oliver knew _nothing_ of Felicity’s life. Not the measures and precautions it took to remain free. Even if that meant taking her own life.

“Oliver. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you realize. It’s just… things changed tonight, and he can find me now. Before he couldn’t, now he can.”

“Felicity, that doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s not supposed to. Look. I’m grateful for your help, I really am. But I can take care of myself just fine. I’ve been doing that for years.”

She stood up, slinging the pack over her shoulder. “Thanks, but no thanks.” Downing the rest of her coffee, she left the handsome man sitting by himself, at a table with two coffee cups, and went out into the pouring rain.

Or she tried to.

Oliver stopped with a hand clasped to her wrist, holding her in place.

“It’s not safe out there.” He made her sit back down.

“I told you.” She answered dryly, not looking at him. The water droplets were much more fascinating. “I can take care of myself.”

“I never doubted that. However, I thought that since I fed you, I would get a little more loyalty than a purr, stir, thank-you sir.”

“I’m not a stray cat.”

“You sure have claws like one. Not to mention… you have a pussy.”

She gave the best glare she got. “ Really? And i thought you couldn’t get any worse. Guess I was wrong.”

He just smiled innocently, then glanced behind her.

“He’s gone. I really think that the man chasing you is just your imagination.”

How could he? How _dare_  he?!

“I am _not_ making this up. And if you want to make fun of me: fine. But I don’t have to stay here. “

Felicity stormed out of the booth, ignoring Oliver’s growing protests. Hugging her jacket closer to her, and double checking that her laptop was securely strapped next to her hip, she pushed open  the 24hr cafe’ doors.

She didn’t know what she was going to do-- staying at her apartment was out of the question. The Captain was out there, looking for her. Since she no longer had the rose to protect her, moving often was imperative. She had to become a ghost. He could never find her; she would not befall the horrors that had happened to her mother. She just wouldn’t.

Oliver was just a human. He stood no chance against an immortal demon. He might think he was big, brave, handsome, and strong, but he was no match for the thing that was after her.

_Damn you, grandmama._

Felicity blew on her hands, trying to warm them up. It was March, and the weather was a lion, snow sprinkling here and there. Felicity was watching over her shoulder too much, but with her mind in turmoil she didn’t see anything. Else she would’ve noticed a familiar figure strutting down the road in her direction. No, she didn’t acknowledge him, too mad at her ancestor who got her into this mess to see him. Too distracted to react in front of her when an arm shot out and grabbed her.

“Shit!” Felicity half screamed, before the man’s grubby hand closed down on her mouth.

“Be quiet, bitch.” The monster snarled in her ear.

He had found her.

Fear and shock rendered her immobile, the world tilting. He had actually found her. Felicity thought she could beat the odds, that she could - and would - escape her destiny, that the fates had no hold on her

Felicity had been free; physically. In that moment of pure trepidation, she realized something with startling clarity-- she hadn’t actually been free. Her mother hadn’t been free and Felicity wasn’t free. Felicity was a prisoner of her fear, that gnawing, twisting, knot that made her constantly look over her shoulder, have ten different exit strategies, and in a dire case, a small knife strapped to the inside of her wrist. One that she would use in a situation like this.

A half second later, he mind unfroze. The monster, instead of whisking her away back to the Sanctuary, started pawing at her, ripping her blouse, sopping lips dribbling spit into her mouth.  This wasn’t her monster-- it was just a human.

Invigorated, she fought back, scratching her nails against his face. Red blood welled to the surface. Definitely human. Her mother had drilled in facts about demons, identifying traits that would keep her alive. One was blood; Demons had gold or black blood--not red. In retaliation, he smacked her head against the brick of the  alley, cursing at her. His hand started squeezing her neck while the other fumbled around down where she didn’t want to look. A jingle of a belt buckle told her what would probably happen next. The man was too strong to get away from, and all the self defense classes she had taken-- wait.

A small sliver of a memory had her reaching up, squabbling around on his hand, trying to find a loose finger. There. His ring finger. She could just get her small fingers around it. Bracing one hand on his wrist she snapped that loose finger back, breaking the bone The man howled in pain, letting her go. She used the opportunity to scamper to the road, heaving in great gulps of air.

She ran into something warm and she shrieked, scrambling backwards.

“Easy, easy, Felicity. It’s just me.” Recognizing Oliver, she scrabbled forward. She embraced his warm body, the rough fabric of his coat scratching her cheek. Thought she had only known him for a short time, right now, her instincts were screaming that he was the only person she could trust. Adrenaline and fear were mixing and thrumming through her, making her body shake. After a trauma like that, she needed something safe.

Someone safe.  And Oliver was her victim of choice.

She squeezed him harder, trying to burrow into him, auras of safe, comfort and familiarity rolling off of him. She could vaguely hear him murmuring above her, but white noise was covering most of her senses, and all she was focused on was clinging to him. To being _safe._

His jacket under her moved and she started, scared that he was pulling away, even though _she needed him._ She clung tighter, pressing her whole body into him.

A touch on her head broke through the static, having her focused and clear. She was able to make out his words in the dark, since his face was cast in shadow, a hint of a jawline in her sight.

“Come here.” Were the words, and the jacket opened, revealing a smooth blue vest, one that was soft against her cheek. His jacket wrapped around her, cocooning her up on a firmly built chest. Her breathing gradually slowed, aided by his hands rubbing up and down her back and the low murmur of his voice in her ear.

The white noise subsided and her awareness of the situation came back in full force; she was standing out in the middle of the sidewalk, at 5 in the morning, hugging a man who was practically a stranger.

Her spine stiffened, and she pulled away, ignoring her body’s protest of its reluctance to leave such an inviting space.He let her go-- mostly. A hand slid down her sleeve, grasping her by the wrist.

“Felicity.”

The way he said her name made her shiver. It wasn’t from the cold though.

“Let me take you home.”

Just the thought of that cramped apartment, filled with dread and horror-filled anticipation of the past weeks,  had her shaking her head frantically.

“No-no no no--”

“Hey.” He whispered insistently, his hand coming up to smooth back her hair from her face. Her hand instinctively clutched his lapels.

Two seconds later she realized what she was doing and pulled back. All the way this time. She put a reasonable amount of distance between them. She reminded herself that she didn’t know him, only sort of trusted him, and anyone around her always tended to get hurt. The first guy she kissed came to mind. He ended up in a twisted heap of bone and burned flesh outside her apartment the next day.

Her and her mother moved the next day.

Oliver seemed nice enough and he didn’t deserve that kind of torture.

“Okay then. Let’s go to my place instead, if you don’t want to go home.”

Felicity bit her lip, indecisive.  She needed to leave, become just a distant memory in Oliver’s life, but she didn’t _want_ to. For the first time, she wanted to be entirely selfish. Oliver brought her comfort like she didn’t believe. What would it hurt going home with him, even if it was just for one night-- well, morning?

“Alright”, she replied.

He nodded, a serious look in his eye. He shrugged off his coat, laying it over her shoulders.

“But you’ll get wet,” she protested, her actions belying her words as she snuggled into the warmth of his jacket.  

“I don’t mind the rain” was his shrugged response.

He led her with a hand at her back, a presence she didn’t automatically shrug off.

While they walked something occurred to her.

“What were you doing in my apartment complex anyway?”

Oliver gave her a hard stare and stopped walking. “When you feel comfortable to divulge your secrets, that’s when I’ll divulge mine. The only answer I am willing to give is that I was working.”

She opened her mouth to ask what his work was, when his words finally reached her brain and she snapped her lips closed. No more questions.

Oliver was operating under the eye for an eye clause and she was reluctant to tell him anything about the dark cloud that dogged her every footstep.  About ten minutes later, Oliver halted her in front of a tall brownstone. Using a key, he easily walked in.

“Stairs or elevator?”

“Elevator.” The last time she had been on stairs, things hadn’t exactly worked out.

Or maybe they had, considering that that had been where she met Oliver.

In the elevator, it impacted her exactly what they were doing. What _she_ was doing. She was going to a strange man’s apartment. Alone. With him.

“Just to be clear we’re not going to your place to .. you know… what people tend to do at their apartment with hot men. Not that I wouldn’t want to do it with you it’s just that…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

“I know, Felicity. No, it will be very… platonic, i promise.”

The elevator dinged, announcing they had reached his floor, interrupting and saving her from a response.

Two doors down the hallway was where he stopped. Number 606.

Oliver knocked. Felicity gave him a look. “Don’t you live here?’

He smiled his all-knowing smirk, but before she could demand more of an answer, the door opened, revealing a skinny guy in a red hoodie. The boy looked at her in befuddlement until he spotted her companion. Immediately, his posture improved, his chin snapping to attention.

“Sir.”

“Harper.”

The man-boy nodded, opening the door wider, letting them in. Oliver gestured for her to go first.

“You have your own butler?” She asked him, turning around. Harper had mysteriously vanished and Oliver was closing the door behind him.

With an enigmatic grin, he replied, “Something like that.”

His apartment was a contrast of messy and utilitarian. The living room had junk food all over the couch, the wrappers in a pile next to the coffee table. There was a box of half-eaten pizza, next to cans of Mountain Dew.

But then he led her through the kitchen which is where things started to get a bit strange. It was perfectly clean. No stains, no crumbs, no dishes lying on the counter. Absolutely and spotlessly in perfect condition as though it had never been used.

It was a sharp contrast from the mess in the living room. She wondered at Oliver-- his suit matched how the kitchen felt, but the ‘butler’ was more of the messy kind. Was he like a roommate? That was strange-- Oliver seemed like a lone wolf bachelor pad kind of person, not one that would hang out with rangy teenagers. Plus there was the fact that the boy called him ‘Sir’--

The room spun suddenly, and Felicity realized just how tired she was. She hadn’t slept since the rose petals started falling two days ago and she was exhausted. Her knees wobbled and collapsed, pitching her forward. Felicity braced for impact.

Two strong hands grabbed her, one snaking around her waist while the other held tightly to her forearm.

“Steady there. Come on, you must be exhausted”.Such astute observation skills.

He tried to make her walk, but her limbs weren’t responding.

“Can’t… too tired.”

She leaned on him heavily, the smell of his cologne invading her sense of smell. The room spun again, but this time it was accompanied by weightlessness. Then--warmth.

Oliver had picked her up.

His steady motions of walking around the apartment lulled her further towards sleep, and she didn’t protest when she felt him lay her down on a bed.

“Sleep, Felicity.”

* * *

The blue glow from the computer screens was the only light. The rest of the room was pitch black, absorbing the speeding particles and swallowing them down it's dark mouth.

She glanced towards the bathroom door, a quick sharp movement, then went back to her typing, her fingers flexing and pressing with a _tap tap tap._ A faint humming noise steadily, slowly grew to fill the room, overpowering the sound of keys clacking. It was coming from behind the door she was so apprehensive to open.

She bit her lip, her fingers curling away from the keyboard mid- code, nails digging into her palm. Standing, stiff and tense, the chair falling over behind her, she took one hesitant step forwards, towards the offending door.

The abrupt silence of the humming cutting off started her backwards, into the mess of her chair.   _It was happening._ She couldn’t outrun her fate anymore.

Setting her shoulders square, the woman strode to the bathroom door and flung it open, the door banging into the wall.

Inside the darkened bathroom, on a scroll end table, stood a single rose. Or what was left of one. The petals covered the table as well as the surrounding floor,

She was out of time.

Quickly she sprinted back to her computer, shutting the lid and neatly sliding it into a waiting messenger bag . A hair band around her wrist was used to sleek back her hair into a ponytail. She crossed the room and had the door handle turned when the humming sound came again .

He was here.

Suddenly the bathroom door banged open and out of the darkness came a beast, with glowing eyes and sharp talons. Wings stretched behind it, grey leathery things that flapped. The voice was what scared her most, dreaded her that her feet stuck to the ground.

“ _You’re miiiine.”_ It hissed. Felicity tried to run, she grabbed the doorknob but it wouldn’t open. No matter how hard she pulled at it, the door wouldn’t budge. Until it did.

Oliver stood on the other side, surprise all over his handsome face. Despite being grateful to see him, he couldn’t handle the demon. She attempted to slam the door in his face but he pushed through.

“What’s wrong--”

“Run Oliver!”

The Captain menaced towards her, changing directions when he saw Oliver. The man was frozen, paralyzed by the horrifying sight. She saw her past boyfriends in her mind’s eye, a twists of bone and flesh, remnants of the soul contained within.

Felicity didn’t want that to happen to Oliver.

“No!” She ran up to the incubus, beating at his hands were he held Oliver, slowly squeezing the life out of him.

“I’ll go with you, I’ll serve you, just leave him alone! Please!”

The Captain ignored her, then turned to Oliver, took a deep breath and--

A rough hand shook her awake.

“Felicity.”

She felt wetness on her face and realized she was crying.

She turned into Oliver, letting her sobs out against his shoulder for the second time. After a few moments she felt guilty and pulled away, hastily wiping her tears.

“Sorry,”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Why was he so kind to her? She put him in danger just being near him, but with him acting like that, it just made it harder for her to leave. And she was going to leave.

Because she needed to. She couldn’t let her dream come true.

“I soiled your shirt again.”

“It doesn’t matter. Here, lie back down. It was only a dream.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was a memory.”

Oliver frowned at her, but thankfully didn’t ask any questions. He go up and left, and she could hear him bustling in the kitchen. He brought back a glass of water, which he then made her drink. The cool liquid helped her parched throat.

“Now, go back to sleep. I’m right here.”

Felicity bit her lip, an idea occurring to her. However it was presumptuous of her to ask. She did anyway.

“Will you… “ she patted next to her. “...stay?”

Instead of replying, he just looked at her, his eyes calculating and assessing. Slowly, he toed off one shoe, then made a decision, perfectly removing the other and his vest, that blue vest that did wonders for his eyes. He moved to take his shirt off, unbuttoned several buttons, until Felicity noticed the scars.

She gasped, sitting up again. When he realized what held her attention, he buttoned his shirt again. A hand on her arm pushed her back to the mattress.

Oliver climbed on top of the duvet, lying against the headboard, feet crossed,  hands folded in his lap.

“Sleep, Felicity.” He repeated.

She scooted over, pressing her body to the side of his leg, and fell back asleep.

* * *

She woke hot. Too hot.

Oliver was laying on top of her, and she was under the comforter, stifling heat. Sunlight streamed in from the large windows of his room, adding to the heat.

Felicity attempted to roll out from under the heavy mass, but Oliver was heavy in his sleep, his arm a cage. Finally, she reached over and smack that arm.

He woke, looked around blearily, and finally noticed her.

“Will you let me out?” She demanded. In reply, he moved his arm enough that should could wiggle out.

Felicity looked around for her laptop bag, spying it over next to the door. Vaguely aware that Oliver moved around the same time she did, moving to the bathroom and closing himself in, but she was more focused on her laptop.

Opening it up and looking at the information on the screen had her swearing.

“Damn it!”

_No Known Locations for Paul Blackthorne_

She was about to throw the laptop across the room in frustration but settled for a mouse instead. However, she had inadvertently shot it at the bathroom door, almost hitting an exiting Oliver in the face. Only his quick reflexes had him catching the wireless mouse.

His gaze found hers and he frowned, a silent question. Felicity shrugged and closed the laptop. She would run another search later, when he was gone. Well, when _she_ was gone.

A chime had Oliver reaching for his phone. Whatever was on it had him antagonized. He rubbed his hand over his face.

“I have to go to work--emergency it seems. Don’t go anywhere, okay? You’ll be safe here. The fridge is stocked if you get hungry.”

Without waiting for a response, or even an acknowledgement of his demand, he disappeared out the front door.

Felicity wasted no time in gathering up her stuff. She raided the fridge of items that would hold up on a roadtrip, feeling slightly guilty. But then he had told her to help herself.

She slipped out the door, looking around for Oliver. He had simply vanished. Still on the lookout for a familiar three piece suit, she left the apartment building, heading down the street. She needed a bus stop to take her to the local Greyhound. From there… she would find a new place, until the Captain found her again.

Every step away from Oliver’s apartment and her anxiety creeping back, strong and stronger. Felicity kept thinking that as soon as she was on a bus away from the city that it would go down. Oliver had been a place of safety, even if it has only been for a night. A new city would be good for her.

She would’ve made it too, except she paused too long at a Tech Village, looking at the brand new laptop in the window.  When she started moving again, she locked eyes with a boy.

A boy in a red hoodie.

It was Oliver’s butler--roommate-- kid brother? And she knew without a doubt that he was going to inform Oliver of her departure. A small part of her was pleased, that maybe Oliver cared enough about her to come after her, but the more rational part said that it was better this way. She could keep him safe the moment she left this cursed town.

The boy slipped away as quickly as he’d come, around a corner to the alley. It would take him sometime to inform Oliver, and then for Oliver to actually get there. She was cutting it close. But the bus station was just up ahead and if she walked faster she could get on a bus. Just a few more minutes---

A pale hand wrenched her into a dead end alleyway. A greyish greenish pale hand. This time, for sure, her abductor was a demon.

He had wings, the same color as his skin, just a darker shade, stretching behind him. Black eyes with yellow slits stared back at her.

His mouth stretched wide, a gaping black hole with saliva, red, dripping from his only two teeth. In a word: It was horrifying.

Felicity was paralyzed, fear immobilizing every muscle in her body. She hadn’t seen a demon before, just heard descriptions from her mother. From that knowledge alone, her brilliant mind informed her that this wasn’t the Captain. The Captain was taller, close to seven feet, with black angel wings with feathers, charred from Hell’s Fire at the edges.

This demon had bat wings. Probably a servant. Typical. The Captain was too proud to get his hands dirty and come after her himself.

The demon grinned, laughter echoing around the short alleyway.

“I have found her! The Captain’s whore! And before him too! We will finally defeat him, the Leader of Heaven’s Bastards.”

His words confused Felicity. Wasn’t he a servant of the Captain? Was this a mutiny? And the Captain was looking for her? _Himself?_

:”You my sweet,” he crooned, finally addressing her, stroking her face, “will cause heaven to fall and the Captain himself to submit to our feet.” He cackled and Felicity flinched away from his hand.

She spat on him, then wrenched her arm out of his grasp, turning towards the alley mouth. The demon caught her around the waist but that wasn’t what made her exclaim in shock.

Oliver was standing there, coat billowing out, like an avenging angel. There was no mercy in his eyes, his face all hard edges and angles. In his hand was a sliver blade, glinting off the shadows.

“YOU!” The demon hissed behind her, dragging her back into his grotesque body.

“Yes, me.”

“You have killed thousands of my brethren. I will enjoy dispatching you!”

Oliver didn’t respond, lunging forward like a cat, swiping sideways with his blade. The demon just dragged her closer.

“I will slit her throat and then where will you be, O---” but the rest of his words were garbled and Felicity felt something dripping to her hair. The demon slumped to the ground, another blade lodged firmly in his back. SHe reached up and touched the slime, coming away with yellow goo.

The red hoodie boy stood just there. It was his blade that had killed the demon. Before she could offer her thanks or do anything really, the body exploded, showering all three of them in ash.

“Are you alright?” Oliver asked, shaking gray debris from his hair.

“Yeah,” she scuffed her boot where the demon had been. She was still shaking from the demon’s presence, and relieved that she didn’t have to be dragged away to the Sanctuary.

A hand tilted her head up and towards Oliver’s. It wasn’t the pleasant expression she had come to expect from him. No, it was similar to the look when he had confronted the demon, just less hard angles, but with the same intensity.

“I told you to stay in the apartment.”

“I--” But all her reason had left with the realization that Oliver was a demon hunter.

“What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t know that you had that! I didn’t know that you knew anything about the supernatural! For all I knew-- you were a stupid human being with a hero complex!”

The boy behind her snorted. Oliver gave a hard glance to him behind her. “Roy…”

So that’s what his name was.  But that was besides the point.

“I’m being chased, hunted down by one of the worst demon’s in the world, and everyone I have ever loved has ended up dead or missing! I didn’t want you to be numbered among them…” She lost her steam somewhere in that tirade, and ended on a sad note, one that gave away her feelings too much.

Felicity looked up to watch several emotions cross Oliver’s face. Irritation and frustration were clearly plain, with him refusing to look at her. His jaw ground and tightened, his eyes located somewhere above her head.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” He eventually decided on. “But now I understand why you didn’t.”

Oliver stepped out of the alley, a hand held out to her. Before she accepted his offering,she  wanted to know the answer to one question first.

“Can I trust you?”

He hesitated, a hair’s breath of a moment but she saw it.

“You can trust me.”

And in that second she knew he was telling the truth.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truths are revealed, some more shocking than the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> The biggest thanks to WRITEWITHURHEART the best beta EVER. :) 
> 
> Thanks so much for the positive comments last chapter! It was very much appreciated. it seems that you all are excited to know what happens next and that you all thought that Oliver was the Captain. :) This is a BIG Chapter, so I expect all your reactions in the comments below.
> 
> So with no further delay, happy reading!

**October**

Felicity groans at the empty store front, scowling in boredom as her fingers tap out a rhythm on the counter with a red pen. When Oliver said that he could get her a job, she didn’t expect that he would do something like---this! She has a  _ master’s  _ in Cybersecurity, she’s worth more than a Tech Village sales associate.

It has been a month and still no sign of the Captain. There had been nothing. No creepy men stalking her, no ominous burned bodies popping up in the street. It was like he had lost interest in her, like he had stopped hunting her. Something she found very strange, very unlike everything her mother had told her about her father. The simple truth that he never gave up what was his. As it were, Felicity had stopped constantly looking over her shoulder, deciding to  _ trust  _ Oliver, to trust in what he had told her. She was safe with him. 

The only problem was that Felicity could not stop thinking about the demon attack. She couldn’t stop thinking about his words, and how much they disturbed her. He called her the Captain's Whore--- a title that revulsed her. And not just because she had never been with anyone-- despite her trying. There was an almost thing with Cooper, but then she got the call about her mother and Felicity was jerked back into high alert mode. Cooper hadn’t liked that very much and had broken up with her. Which she guessed was a good thing. Breaking things off probably spared his life. 

But the Captain’s  _ Whore:  _ It was a title, one that she didn’t want to own.  She kept trying to ask Oliver about it but he deflected every time she brought it up. It was almost like he was… avoiding talking about that encounter. Why, she couldn’t fathom.

He was gone a lot, hunting, probably. Since that’s what Oliver was, a demon hunter, at least that’s what he told her he was. Except there was something off about it, something not right, something that he wasn’t telling her. No demon hunter she knew wore suits constantly (even though he looked delicious in them) and he almost always came back to her after one or two days. 

She knew a hunter, a  _ real  _ demon hunter, and she hadn’t seen him nor heard from him for months. 

In fact, she couldn’t  _ find  _ him. 

Her last customer finally left after what seemed like hours of “just looking”, the door slamming behind him, and allowing Felicity to turn back to her laptop. Ever since the petals of her mother’s rose had started wilting two months ago, she had been searching for the one man she knew would be able to help: 

Her step-father. Quentin Lance. 

After her mother’s death, when she had come home from MIT with barely a month left to graduation, Quentin had all sorts of questions for her, and Felicity couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer. The whole story came out-- great- many greats-grandmother’s curse, why they were always moving. It was Quentin who had given her the rose with the note from her mother. 

Afterwards, they had done what they both did best-- Felicity disappeared and Quentin went hunting. He quit his job at the Police Department and went to find a way to kill the bastard stalking Felicity. 

But now, she needed him now more than ever. She missed him. He was the closest thing to a father figure in her life, and her mother and him had only been married for less than six months when she died. Felicity had barely had him in her life, yet he became extremely important to her  _ Just like Oliver,  _ a little voice whispered, which she shut down. Quentin was her lead, the one person she had relied on to help get her out of this mess, and still her searches gave her nothing.  _ Nothing.  _ Every alias she knew of his and the internet couldn’t find him.  Therefore, Oliver became her last resort and only hope. 

If only she was brave enough to tell him.

Felicity cared for this man, this wonder that came into her life, her unexpected savior. She wanted to stop running, stop disappearing, and live, all because of him. Oliver inspired that in her, to be better, to rise above this nightmare that was stalking her every footstep. He taught her to appreciate the moments she had, because death or a sinister force could break them apart at any moment. While her gut told her to move on, her head and heart were in agreement--- Oliver was safe. He wouldn’t hurt her. 

Yet for all that she trusted him, how much she lov--believed in him, she had never once told him why she was running that day, the day they had met. He hadn’t pressed much, which Felicity appreciated. She knew he had secrets too. Everyone did. But wouldn’t he be better prepared if she told him? Perhaps Oliver knew Quentin, knew where to find him. Fellow hunters communicated right?  Even if he didn’t know her step-father, maybe Oliver knew of a way to kill an Incubus. 

The door tinkled, indicating a new customer. Glancing over at the clock, seeing that it was past nine, closing time, she automatically called out, “We’re closed!” without ever looking up from her screen. 

“Even for me?” The voice she lov--cared greatly about spoke right next to her. 

Oliver.

She turned, seeing his elated, handsome face, and jumped up, hugging him, nestling into his warm neck.  He chuckled, the rumble vibrating her whole body. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” She breathed back and she reluctantly pulled away. 

“I came to get you. I have something special planned.” He gave her a small smile, one that told her he wasn’t sure if she would like it. 

“Oh really?” she said, cheekily. “Are we celebrating something.” 

“Maybe, maybe not.” Oliver said evasively. 

“Okay,” She grinned, deciding to go along with him. Even if they were celebrating something, she would take any chance she could get to spend with him. He’d been gone for three whole days-- a record in the time that she knew him.

She closed her laptop, tucking it under her arm. “Wait one second.” Felicity walked back to the employee’s room and locked her laptop in her locker. She wouldn’t need it, she had another one at home. 

Home. 

It was technically Oliver’s apartment but she couldn’t help but it felt like home. Home was where you felt safe and her previous apartment didn’t fit that description. She was cherished, wanted, safe, wherever he made his abode. She knew, in her bones, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. 

Walking back to the lobby, she stopped in the doorway, just staring at the man she called hers. Not  _ hers  _ hers, but hers all the same. He was looking amazing, in a grey suit, deep blue tie loose around his neck. 

“I like being yours.”

Crap. 

“Did I say that--”

“All out loud, yes.” He reached out his hand, beckoning to her. She gladly took it, his warm palm a sense of reassurance, of being grounded. At the same time, in a play of irony, her head got a heady euphoria when he leaned in. She braced, wanting it, but disappointed. 

They hadn’t kissed yet, even though there had been a few close calls. Oliver had swerved at the last minute, kissing her cheek, or had moved back all together. Although, Felicity didn’t want their first kiss to be in Tech Village, for all that she wanted it to happen. 

Oliver kissed her cheek, and she sighed, relieved, but still crestfallen. Three dates, and her boyfriend wouldn’t even kiss her.

He drew her outside, after Felicity had shut off the lights. Locking the door of the store behind her, she tightened her grip on Oliver’s hand. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, looking up at his massive figure. He just kissed the side of her head and said nothing, leading her down the block.

They walked in almost silence, one that Felicity was reluctant to break. She resolved to tell Oliver everything-- he had earned that much. One month of constantly being there for her, of protecting her and being patient with her. Felicity felt guilty for holding such an important piece of her life from him.

Perhaps once all the secrets were on the table she would let herself take that extra step, the one where she admitted to herself that she loved him. Was in love with him.

_ One step at a time.  _

Oliver stopped in front of the ice cream shop. 

“Mint chip?” He asked. 

“Of course? There is no better kind.”

They quickly paid for their ice cream, Felicity having a double scoop in a cup. Spotting a bench a ways down the block, she tugged Oliver to it. 

“If there comes a day where I can’t eat ice cream, I shall surely die!” She exclaimed, slumping on to the bench. Oliver sat down next to her, silent, but a quick glance showed her that he was amused by her. His eyes were twinkling. 

Felicity took advantage of the situation, laying her head in Oliver’s lap, tossing her feet over the armrest of the bench. 

“Want a bite?” She asked. He snorted. 

“Felicity. We got the same flavor.”

“But mine tastes better.” She smile with all the mirth and happiness she had in her. Felicity never knew that she could feel this much joy, but she did with Oliver. 

“Alright.” He took the cup and spoon from her hand, and with one ginormous bite, ate half her icecream. 

“Hey!” She pouted, stealing her cup back from him. “That was my icecream.”

“You said I could have a bite.”  _ You little stinker.  _

“I didn’t know that your bite would be that big.” Felicity quickly finished the rest of her ice cream, not willing to chance Oliver stealing more. “Plus you have your own ice cream.”

“You told me yours tasted better.” He defended, a smile playing at her lips. She would consider it an accomplishment if she could get Oliver to smile, even once. He was a serious person, and a tiny smirk was as close as she had been able to get. But a smile...

“Shut up!” She stuck her tongue out at him. His gaze narrowed in on her mouth, before he had to drag it away. She bit her lip, disappointed. Perhaps that’s what they were celebrating, or rather prepping for. Their first kiss.

She ate the last of her ice cream, giving Oliver the cone and spoon to toss in the trashcan next to the bench they sat on. Well, he sat on, she laid on. 

“I wish this moment would last forever.” She confessed, looking up at him. She watched as the amusement faded and he looked up and across the street. 

“So do I.” He said quietly. 

A beat passed, and Felicity felt the atmosphere shift, felt Oliver shift under her. For some reason, she knew the next moment everything would change. That her new found happiness was about to be snatched from her. 

“Felicity?”

“Mmm?” He still didn’t look down at her.

“Do you remember the day we met?”

“What kind of a question is that? Of course I do!” 

Oliver visibly hesitated. His fingers on the hand not holding his ice cream started rubbing together. Finally, he met her gaze straight on. 

“Will you tell me who you were running from?” 

And the spell broke. 

Felicity sighed, sitting up. She needed to tell this story face to face, where he couldn’t easily avoid her gaze. 

“Oliver…”

“Please?” It was asked so simply, without guile, that she couldn’t say no. 

“Alright. But it’s a long story.”

A slight uptick of his lips, but not a full smile. “You say that about every story.”

She didn’t smile back. “This time it’s true. And it spans several generations.”

“Tell me.”

So she did. She took his hand in hers, finding it easier to stare at her fingers tracing his palm than into his searching eyes. 

“I”m running from a demon known as the Captain. And from the little I know, the little I’ve been told, I’m supposed to become his slave, to serve him in all his wants and needs, until he tires of me and kills me, or I die.”

Oliver flexed his hand, but made no move to interrupt, letting her continue at her own pace. 

“You see, many years ago, my great-great-great-great-great grandmother, that’s a lot of greats, anyways, she wanted a child. She wanted a child so bad that she had a witch summon a monster, an  _ incubus _ . She struck a deal with him that if he would but love her, and give her a child, she would serve him for 1000 years. 

“What she assumed was that he would grant her long life, that she would live with him for all those years. She was wrong. He got her with child, and then when the child was old enough, around 18,  he killed my great-great grandmother, and wedded her daughter. “

Felicity couldn’t stop the shudder of repugnance, flexing her jaw, and tucking her face into her shoulder. Just thinking about what her mother had lived through, what she would’ve been forced to witness had her mother not done what she had done.   

“From that unholy union was my great great great great grandmother.” Felicity counted on her fingers, making sure she got the number right. ”And he did the same thing. When my great, many greats, grandmother was old enough to be bedded, he killed her mother and took her as-- his whore.” Felicity flinched, echoing the words the demon had spoke.

“Hey.” Oliver brought up her attention. He looked pained, almost guilty, but she shook that thought off. His fingers started rubbing into her wrist. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Felicity fiercely shook her head. “I  _ need  _ to. You deserve that much.”

He huffed, a sentence sounding like “I don’t deserve anything.” muttered under her breath but she could’ve been wrong. She continued, bracing herself. 

“And the cycle continued. For generations. My grandmother, she had spunk. She was the only one to try and stop the cycle. She tried to save my mother from the same fate, tried to get my mother to escape but the Captain caught them before Mom made it out. He killed my grandmother in his rage and locked my mom up.  However, when my mother was pregnant with me, an opportunity was given. And she took it. She ran away with me.” 

Oliver’s face had darkened as her tale went on, frowning deeper with an angry line between his eyebrows. 

“How could she? How could she take you away?”

Misinterpreting Oliver’s question, Felicity explained. “There was some kind of a ceremony, something that took my father away from the Sanctuary for a time.  Armed with what little magic she had, being a child of several generations of Incubus-Born, she protected us and ran away. She had me and ran, ran so far and so fast because she remembered her mother’s death. She remembered what happened with her. So she took me and left. We’ve been in hiding ever since.”

_ Hiding, but not living.  _ Her brain supplied. She remembered her childhood, of the constant fear, being shoved into closets when there came a knock on the door, of moving every so often. It had taken a whole lot of pleading and convincing before Donna would even let her go to MIT. All with a promise sealed in blood that if anything happened, Felicity would come straight home. And barring that, using the little knife hidden on her to slit her own throat. It was better that Felicity was dead, than a slave to the incubus. 

Oliver must have heard something in her voice or in her words because he sat up straighter, looked at her more intensely. He understood that she was reaching the climax of her story. He tightened his grip on her hand, stopping the ministrations, but she pulled away. She couldn’t touch him, nor be comforted by him, when she told what happened next. 

“Almost a year ago, my mother was killed by the Captain.” Felicity said flatly, not looking at Oliver. Just saying the word brought back images-- blood scattered all over their apartment, the place torn apart, vases broken, electronics shattered. The blank look in Quentin’s eyes. 

The memories still haunted her. 

“I was at MIT. It had been  _ years  _ since we saw any sign of him. No random men’s bodies found in the gutter, someone that had hit on my mom or me, someone that had a romantic trace. That’s how he could track us. Any romantic partner we had, we had a trace of us left on them, something the Captain found. They always ended up dead. I found it easier not to fall in love after the first few times.”

Felicity could feel herself losing it, losing the tight grip she held on her panic, on her emotions. She would not have a panic attack right now. But she couldn’t contain a rebellious tear from escaping though.

“We felt safe enough that I decided that I could go to school. And I did. Three whole years of blissful silence. My mother even found my step-father, marrying him so he would be protected from the Captain’s wrath. Just being in our household kept him safe.

“It happened a month before graduation. I was studying programming when got the phone call… she--she was-- murdered by that bastard!” Felicity could feel the rest of the tears slipping down her face. 

Oliver wouldn’t look at her, but she saw both his hands clenched into fists, his jaw tight. Mint colored liquid, from his ice cream ran down the outside of his thumb. He had crushed the cone.

“I hate him. I hate him so much and I’ve never met him. I never want to meet him. My father is a disgusting perverted psychopath, and I will never go with him I would die first. I loved my mother and that selfish monster took her away from me.”

Felicity gulped in breaths, trying to calm her emotions enough to finish the story, to tell him  _ everything. Finish the story.  _

“It wasn’t until she died that I found out how she did it. How we were able to hide from him all these years. You see, because she--we’re-- a hybrid, she had a power, a power that let us be shielded from his gaze, from him finding us. But my mother, when she died, she left a rose for me, a rose that lasted almost a year. She said it would keep me safe, until I figured out a way to destroy my father. But I failed. I couldn’t find a way, my step-father has disappeared and I can’t find him to see if he knows of a way. Now that the Captain has killed my mother…

“Well, now he’s after me.” She concluded, wiping away her tears. 

“I take it the rose died.” He whispered. She could only nod. A burdened shared, she relaxed against the bench, looking at the dark street. A car went by, disturbing her hair. 

Oliver was silent, mulling over her story. Once in awhile she glanced at him, but he never looked her way. Just as she was about to get up, change the subject, something, he spoke. 

“Do you hate him so much?” 

“He’s perverse,” She snapped, irritated that Oliver would side with the monster. “My  _ father  _ wants to marry me, bed me. It’s sick. Plus, we’re his slaves. We have to do everything he wants. I refuse to have my life ruled that way.”

Oliver bit his lip, turning away, but she caught a glimpse of conflict in his eyes. 

Slowly, with added thought, he said, “ I can’t help but wonder what he got out of it, the Captain. Why he took your great-great-great-great-great-grandmother’s deal.”

“Because he’s a psychopathic, immortal demon, that’s why.” Why were they even discussing this?

“First off, an incubus isn’t a demon. He’s a fallen angel. And what if it’s more than that, more than just because of who he is? What if he was so desperate for someone to love him, to be with him, because he was lonely in his job? The gods dictate him, give him command over thousands of demons, to control and to maintain. The Captain’s power comes from those he beds. What if he got tired of taking women, faceless women constantly, when he could have your ancestor and have only one woman?” His voice held so much emotion, so much pain and sadness that it gave 

Felicity paused, her mind befuddled and whirring, trying to make sense of this sudden empathy. “But what about killing her? Why did he do that? Why take the child?”

Oliver stared right at her. “Would you let your daughter be raped by her father? No, I bet it was better for him to just kill them. Get them out of the way. The reason, this is me speculating, he would take the child is because virgins are more powerful. Plus the child was half immortal. There’s a legend that a seven times child from an incubus becomes… well.. Nephilim. I think that’s what he was trying to do.”

“Why are you on his side?”

“Because I’ve had someone taken away from me too.” Oliver sighed, looking off across the street. “I lost someone. Years ago. She- she was my destiny, so to speak and I loved her. I had never met her but I loved her. She was taken away from me and I have spent everything I have looking for her. “

“You love her that much?” Felicity was jealous, a pit in her stomach.  Oliver didn’t return her feelings, the ones that she had refused to admit to herself. She was alone in her emotions. He had someone else. 

He met her gaze and she could see the fury and passion in them. “ Yes. And when I found the person that hid her, that had kept her from me for so long, I couldn’t contain myself.”

Oliver’s voice took on a strange quality, one of almost...weakness.  _ He was ashamed.  _

“I was full of rage and anger, years of pent up frustration that I lashed out, and murdered her captor. It was a bloody mess, and I regretted it after the act. Ashamed at what i had let myself become, I ran.”

“What happened to her, your… destiny?’

Oliver sounded a hollow laugh, a note of bitterness at the end. “I lost her. I lost her because of what I had done to her mo--captor, and because of all the lies she had been told. So I like to think I know how the captain feels. He’s not a monster like you think.”

“Yes he is.” She thought, thinking he was talking metaphorically. 

Oliver shook his head. “Yes but that’s not what I meant. Do you know what an incubus is?”

She raised her eyebrows, “ a horrible creature that preys on women?” 

“No. An incubus is a fallen angel.”

Felicity blinked, shocked. Her father was… an angel? What? 

But a small voice told her that this all  made sense. The description her mother had given her of the captains true from, the fact that he had his own human form and didn’t inhabit a human vessel.  The fact that he had black angel wings. 

The fact that her mother had protective magic rather than destroying magic. 

“That’s not possible.” She insists. “He’s leader of the demons and  _ preys on women.  _ No angel would do that.”

Oliver changed gears. “Do you know what Nephilim is?” 

She frowned. Why was that important?  “Aren't they children of angels?”

“And a human. They’re a union of an angel and a human. Nephilim are extremely powerful--so powerful that they’re very, very rare. You see, angels are forbidden to love, to  _ make  _ love or anything like unto it.”

“Sex, you mean.”

Oliver seesawed his head. “...yes. It is a sin, and if discovered, the angel becomes fallen-- becomes an incubus if male, and a succubus if female. This is why Nephilims are rare. The child, or even sometimes the human female carrying the child, is killed, hiding the angel’s sin. Essentially, the price of a Nephilim is an Incubus. Even then, even if the Nephilim is killed, the angel can be discovered and cast out of heaven. A fallen angel craving love from human flesh.”

“Which is why they prey on women.”

“And men.” Oliver reminded. She smiled briefly, delighted at his gender equal attitude.  

They fell silent, Felicity picking at her fingers. The sense of elation from revealing her secret and having him accept her was thrilling. She felt that she could tell him anything and nothing would change their relationship. Oliver’s explanation brought up something. Something the demon had said. 

Felicity laid back down in his lap. 

“Oliver…?”

‘Hmm?” He hummed noncommittally. He glanced down at her. 

“What army does the Captain lead? The demon called it something like--”

He finished her thought. “Heaven’s Bastards?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up a strand of her hair and started playing with it.    
“Heaven’s bastards aren't angels, not are they demons. They’re the inbetween. Children of unholy crosses. Cambions-- which are children of demons and humans; Daeumons: children of the incubus and humans, the rare Nephilim, and incubi. Those that haven’t totally rejected heaven or dislike hell enough to fight against it. Lucifer -- an incubus mind you, Lillith is his demon whore-- leads hell, Michael leads the angles and the Captain… the Captain leads the bastards.”

Lightbulb! “That’s why the demon called me the Captain’s whore.”

Oliver flinched. “I’ve heard of you, rumblings from demons. Occasionally an incubus, it doesn’t matter. They also call you the Captain’s Queen,...” his voices was deadly serious, with a quiet intensity. He realized that he may have given too much away and obviously lightened his tone, adding an element of flippantly to it. “.... or such.”

“How do you know so much?” She decided to ignore his apparent change, suspicion tingling the back of her neck.  _ He was hiding something.  _ But she indulged his levity. 

He smiled mysteriously, a smirk she was all too familiar with. 

“Jerk. “She hit him on the thigh. 

“Oh I’m the jerk.” 

“Yes. But you’re my jerk.” Felicity sat up, reaching towards Oliver. Her hand was at the base of his neck, fingers rubbing the small hairs there. She met his eyes and saw the same desire she felt. Her eyes flicked down to his mouth, those utterly kissable lips, pillow mountains of passion. She watched as his tongue peeked out, wetting them and she drew closer, before flicking back to his gaze, one that just drew her in. 

But before she could make herself kiss him, before she would let herself get lost in the heat that was swirling between them, she had to tell him. She had to tell him how she felt. 

“Oliver, I love--”

Her words were broken off when she heard a throat clearing, and Oliver’s attention snapped away from her, tense and prepped for a fight. 

The moment lost, she turned her head, sitting all the way up from Oliver’s lap when she noticed the man approaching them.

He was tall, with an impressive figure, his biceps larger than the man’s next to her. His dark skin was mostly concealed by a three piece suit. 

What really got her attention was the blade in his right hand, the same blade Oliver had, but this one was coated with a dark substance. Blood, demon blood. It ran down the blade and dripped to the concrete. 

“Sir.” He address Oliver in the same way Roy did. The meaning of this, the implications that started running through her mind, the fact that this man worked for Oliver, was ominous. She knew that this man here, now, was a bad sign. 

It was all the tension from Oliver. His fists were clenched, his jaw was tightened and he was glaring daggers and hot anger at the approaching man. When the man knelt, head bowed in supplication, Oliver’s arm snaked around her and pulled her against him. 

“Diggle.” His voice was rough, fury scraping the edges. 

“You’re needed on the battlefield, my liege.” 

“Digg…” A warning. He used that tone of voice she had heard a month ago, when Oliver had killed the demon. 

“Please, sir, they’ve broken through.”

“And you think, what I’m doing here is less important?” Oliver let her go, standing up to tower over the crouching man. 

“No, sire, but….” the man visibly hesitated, glancing up before cowering even lower. His next word were so quiet, she had to strain to hear them. “We need the Queen. Your Queen.” 

His Queen? Oliver’s Queen? What was going on? 

“She’s not ready. Now leave.” 

The man nodded, standing up. However, instead of just walking off, there was a flash, a sucking in of darkness, and a faint image of wings, before the man-- Diggle-- vanished. Just disappeared from existence. 

Felicity looked at Oliver, who was still as coiled and tense as when Digg appeared, her mind whirling with everything he told her. And there was only one explanation that could apply. Why he was so sympathetic to her  _ father,  _ how he knew what the Captain really was, the fact that he was with her when he had told her about the girl that had been taken from him…

No.  _ No.  _

The realization that all the dots were connecting frightened her. She shook her head trying to keep it from doing that, but her brilliant brain didn’t listen to her. The truths were all laid bare.

The man she had almost admitted that she loved him was the man who had been chasing her all this time. The man who had killed generations of her kinfolk. The man---no,  _ the beast  _ that would make her his slave. 

“You--you’re him. You’re the Captain.” She couldn’t get away from him fast enough. 

The demon from the alley’s words made sense, all the puzzle pieces laid to make the gruesome picture. She trusted him, with everything, with her home, her safety, her words and confessions. Oliver had been her one redeeming feature in this horror filled world that was her life. And it turns out that he had lied to her. 

To her face. He let her rage and storm all the while holding onto an inside joke. He laughed at her, everytime she ducked and covered away from strange men. He lied to her when he told her that she could trust him. 

Turns out, he was the last person she should trust.  

Oliver only looked at her, devastated, pleading with her. But she was past feeling.

“You killed my mother.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUUN!
> 
> I know some of you guessed it, but tell me how you feel! And did I surprise you? Or did you guess it?


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end! The biggest thanks to writewithurheart for her betaing skills. I couldn't have done this without her. For those of you panicking because of the great reveal of last chapter this resolves it. It's shorter than the others, I apologize. But it's full of gritty stuff. 
> 
> As of right now there is no sequel planned. This is as far as the story goes. To what happens next is your own imagination. I left it the way I did just in case inspiration strikes down the road.
> 
> For those of you who are complaining about the incest, I DID put it in the tags. It's not my fault you didn't read them. I didn't put rape /noncon because I didn't think it would apply. 
> 
>  
> 
> Before you dive into this chapter, I encourage you to go back and reread the two previous chapters. Now that you know that Oliver is The Captain, you can find all the clues you missed the first time around. I'm told it's an eye opening experience.

**December**

 

“Thanks.” Felicity accepted her triple non-fat latte’ from the barista with a grateful smile.

“Good night!” The girl waved at her as she was leaving.

It had been two months- two months on the run, two months of looking over her shoulder _again_ , two solid months of heartbreak. It  felt like before, like the rest of her life, except this time it was different. This time, Felicity knew the monster’s face, knew exactly who stalked her footsteps:

The man who had broken her heart.

Yet she hadn’t seen him. Two months and  no sign of the Captain. He had no magical barrier preventing him this time, he could come and take her at any moment, yet he hadn’t. For some inexplicable reason, he hadn’t come for her.

His last words to her still echoed in her mind, a haunting promise. _“I will always come for you*_  but he hadn’t acted. Perhaps he had truly let her go.

Even if he had, it was her traitorous’ heart that had her breath speeding up every time she caught a shadowed figure in a sit out of the corner of her eye. Turns out _she_ couldn’t let _him_ go.  He had entwined himself throughout her soul, bewitched her, she yearned for his presence. Logically, Felicity knew that she should cut out everything of him, forcefully tear him from her heart: he was a cancerous growth. _He had killed her mother._  

Her heart, on the other hand, was divided in half. She had been betrayed, duped, lied to for a month, had _trusted_ her greatest enemy. He hurt her greatly, her entire life had been ruined by him.

However, the other side of her heart told her that it was very simple: She loved him. Logic couldn’t fight against it. Two months ago the man she loved lied and betrayed her, and Felicity was still in love with him.

Felicity left the café, a cup of coffee and a half-priced muffin in her hand. The coffee shop was a block from her apartment.  Ever since that night, the night he had betrayed her, she decided to start living, stop just surviving. If the Captain would come for her, he would. That was a fact. Until then, she wouldn’t let him hold her back any longer.

Three weeks into November, she found her way to this place, Starling City. Felicity had fallen in love with it.  That was the final nail in her decision. The Captain would no longer rule her life. Starling was her home now, and she wouldn’t be driven away by fear or hate.

A degree from MIT opened many doors; specifically one at Palmer Technologies. She was low-level R & D, but was in a position to move up. Felicity was finally putting the past behind her.

It was late-- roughly nine o’clock. She had stayed late a at the office, working on a project due in the morning. She grabbed a coffee on the way home because she was perfecting a virus tonight, something she was going to show her coworker. He had goaded her , telling her that girls weren’t smart enough to be hackers. She was going to prove him wrong.

“Miss!”

Felicity turned around, but not before catching a bit of red down an alleyway out of the corner of her eye.

Roy.

He had been keeping an eye on her lately. She would see him every so often, even though he tried to keep out of sight. A gentle reminder that she was being watched over by _him._

Felicity focused on the girl in front of her, the same barista that sold her the coffee and pastry.

“Your name is Felicity?” the girl panted.

Felicity frowned, confused, but confirmed the girl’s guess. “Yeah. Why?”

“I was supposed to give this to a Felicity that came here. I didn’t remember until I was going to close your check that I was supposed to give you the letter. Here.”

The girl reached out, holding a beautiful, stunning red rose, in full bloom. The edges  of the petals were coated in gold dust. Attached to the rose was a letter, with an old fashioned wax seal. Felicity watched as her hands reached out and took the objects from the poor barista.

The girl took her leave but Felicity hardly noticed. She was too fascinated with her gift. Felicity carefully pried open the letter.

A gorgeous script covered the letter. For how big the letter was it contained only two sentences.

_A token of remembrance or forgiveness. And of my deepest love._

It wasn’t signed.

She tore up the letter, pieces fluttering to the pavement. She gripped the rose, not noticing the thorns piercing her skin.

How _dare_ he.

Furious, she stormed into her building and took the elevator to the 6th floor. Upon getting to her door, she halted, the anger dulling into shock.

The door was ajar, the lock splintered as if it had been forced open. Dark gold liquid in the shape of a handprint smeared on the door frame, dripping onto the carpet.

Felicity carefully pushed the door open, following the strange liquid from the hallway, past the kitchen and into the bedroom.

There she stopped, surprise rooting her in place.

The Captain lay collapsed  face-down on the floor, hands reaching towards the bathroom door. He was shirtless, toned skin revealed from the neck to the edge of his pants. All over his skin were tiny white scars, ranging in random patterns. Protruding from his back were gigantic black wings, remnants of the white in the downy underside, but the edges curled, as paper does when scorched. They filled her room, knocking into bookcases, paraphenial scattered all around where the wings must have collided.

The wings weren’t what made her pause though. His back was covered in that same shimmy secretion that had been on her door. It had pooled into the carpet below him, running down his back. It was his blood-- _ichor,_ her mind supplied-- which meant that he was injured.

_He was dying._

“Oliver!” His name ripped from her. It had been two months since she had spoken it aloud but it was as familiar as though it had been only yesterday.

Just seeing him, unconscious as he was, had the memories of that night rushing back.

* * *

_“You killed my mother.”_

_“Felicity…” He took a step towards her but she shook her head, retreating back. Just being near him filled her with revulsion._

_“And you’re my father? You’re a sick bastard!” Her mind was so frizted that sick was the only word she could come up with. The amount that he disgusted her was unparalleled. “ You make me fall in love with you all the while knowing,_ **_knowing_ ** _, that you’re my father and that I detest you. You’re sick!”_

_“Felicity!” Oliver moved fast, so fast she didn’t see it. One moment he was on the other side of the bench from her, the next he was in her space, hands gripping her shoulders._

_“I. am. not. your. Father.” he put emphasis on each word. Felicity wanted to believe him but her anger wouldn’t let her be swayed._

_“I don’t believe you.”_

_“I am not your father because your father is_ **_dead_ ** _, Felicity. He died before you were born.”_

_“He’s immortal. You’re immortal. You’re the Captain, he’s the Captain. You’re the same!”_

_“I am_ **_not_ ** _your father, Felicity. Please, just listen to me._ **_Please_ ** _. “_

_She ground her teeth, throwing his hands off her shoulders. “Fine! I’ll listen.”_

_“The Captain is a title. It’s a position, leader of the army. But he’s--we’re not immortal. Yes, I’m an incubus, a fallen angel, what you will. Angels are immortal. Incubi are not. We live roughly a thousand years once fallen. I was your father’s apprentice, I took his place when he passed. That was the event that allowed your mother to escape with you. My induction ceremony. His death.”_

_“So it was you who killed anyone I kissed? Any happiness we had you viciously ripped it away, that’s it?”_

_His eyes flashed. “No one touches what is mine.”_

_Her hackles raised in the blatant misogyny that sentence stood for. “I’m not yours!”  She defended._

_His eyebrows raised in challenge and she could see the heat of anger stirring behind his eyes. Good._

_“You were created for me Felicity.“ His voice took on a rhythmical pattern._

_‘Seven generations of Daeumon bedded_  
_Until the Seventh’d be wedded_  
_When Glory and Damned become entwined_ _  
Shall the Enemy of God be extermined_ ’.

_“That’s the prophecy.  The prophecy your father was so desperate to fulfill. You’re the child of the prophecy.”_

_“I’m not hearing this.”_

_“Your father knew that he wouldn’t be the Damned in question. His heir would be. So he fulfilled the prophecy and gave you to me! You were supposed to be_ **_mine_ ** _!  You’re the Glory.”_

_“Is that why you killed my mother? Out of a sense that I’m your property?”_

_“Felicity…” No. No, he wouldn’t use that  voice on her. She had to be strong._

_“ANSWER ME! WHY DID YOU KILL MY MOTHER!?!”_

_“She was cloaking you! I couldn’t find you. She had powers, and she was shielding you from me. It was an accident, Felicity, I didn’t mean too--”_

_“Liar. You’re a damn liar, Oliver. You stabbed my mother TEN TIMES! TEN TIMES IS NOT AN ACCIDENT!. You killed her to get to me, because of what I apparently am. A glory? What even is that? And what you did to my mother? That is not accidental. That is cold-blooded murder. Something only a_ **_monster_ ** _can do.”_

 _Hot tears were coursing down her face. “I will_ **_never_ ** _forgive you for what you have done. And I will_ **_never_ ** _be yours. I never want to see you again.”_

_With that sentence she stormed away, leaving him standing next to the park bench. Just before she was out of earshot, she heard him call to her, words that she would rather forget._

_“I will come you. I will always come for you.”_

* * *

Shaking away the memories, she realized that even though she had told him that she never wanted to see him again, she had lied. Yes, he had brutally murdered her mother. A selfish immortal being angry and desperate to get what he wanted? As Oliver had told her many times, he is not a good man. His temper was fearsome, something Felicity had barely glimpsed when he took down that Demon.

But right now, past sins needed to be bygones. Oliver was hurt, bleeding out in front of her and she couldn’t let him die. Her soul was entwined with his just like his was around hers. A tug deep in her chest propelled her forward.

She ran across the room, to his side, avoiding the limp wings that were getting soaked with ichor. She had no idea what she was supposed to do let alone what she _could_  do for an immortal. Did they bleed the same as humans? Could they really die? Oliver had told her that they weren’t immortal, but she hadn’t really believed him.

Despite her fears, her hands had a life of their own. She grabbed some towels from the bathroom to start mopping up the ichor, wiping it away from his skin.

The blood stopped flowing, however, instead it welled up to the surface. A small jostle would have it running over again. In short, his wounds weren’t closing.

“Why won’t it close?!” Felicity explained in frustration, wiping still at the welling blood.

“’Ephilim kiss.” Came a mumble.

Oliver.

He was awake.

She reached over and ran her hand through his hair, smoothing it down. He opened his eyes, his face against the carpet but didn’t smile at seeing her. Instead, he reached up his hand, bringing her closer before caressing her cheek.

“Look at you. So beautiful.”

“Oliver.”’ She snapped impatiently. “How do I close the wounds?”

“Poiso-on. From their... s’ords. Cure is...Nephil’m kiss.”

“What is that?”

Oliver huffed, that inside-joke smirk, one that twisted her insides into knots because it was so _familiar,_ gracing his features. He coughed, and blood came out. This time, it was almost black.

“Kiss fr‘m Nephilim.” the ‘duh’ was implied.

“Okay. Where do I get a Nephilim?”

He gave her an incredulous look, like he couldn’t believe she wasn’t getting it. It was interrupted by more coughing.

“Oliver, _please._ I can’t let you die.”

His face twisted, pain marring his features, but he gathered enough strength to move his arm, jabbing a finger into her diaphragm.

“You. ‘Ephil’m.” His arm fell to the floor with a thump.

Confused, but willing to try anything, she took a towel and wiped at a wound, removing the blood. Before it could well up again, she leaned down and laid her mouth on it.

Nothing happened.

She tried again, this time getting blood on her lips. It tasted bitter, with a hint of cinnamon. Still the wound wouldn’t close.

“Oliver, it’s not working.’

She glanced at him, and his eyes opened, dull and glazed over.

“Cm’ere.”

Felicity crawled back to his head, cradling it in her lap.

“Turn...me...over.”

She smoothed his hair back, before gripping his shoulders and torquing. He helped as much as he could. She could get him only to his side, one of his wings in the way of him laying on his back. Plus, Felicity didn’t think that laying on the cuts was a good thing.

Then she noticed that the wounds weren’t just on his back. His front was covered in the gold ichor as well. A deep hole ran though his stomach, at though a sword plunged through the hard tissue.

It made her even more desperate, because that wound was mortal.

“Oliver,” she tried to get him to understand, “I’m not Nephilium. I’m Daeumon, remember?”

His eyes opened again, fierceness overcoming the pain. ‘You’re the Glory. ‘Ephilium.”

He slumped then, unconscious.

“Oliver.’ She tapped his cheek. Nothing.

“ _Oliver.”_ she tried harder. No matter how much she shook him, he didn’t wake. He was still breathing, but it was shallow.

She was kneeling in a pool of gold, the life force, staining her skirt, her hands. Bits of Oliver were everywhere, and he was dying. He had come to _her_ in the last moments of his life, even though she hated him and had told him that she never wanted to see him again. He had respected her wishes. But now he needed her.

_‘My Beloved.’_

That’s what he had called her. _My Destiny. My Queen._

He loved her. He loved her so much that he had destroyed anything that stood between him and her, even her own mother. It was horrifying, how far he took it, but his passion.

He loved her.

And she loved him.

Despite _everything,_ everything that should’ve revulsed it, should’ve prevented any kind of positive feelings towards him, she was in love him.

Her Captain.

Now crying, Felicity bowed her head against his, whispering over and over again the words she had never told him, the words she had held in for far too long, the words hate had sealed her lips from saying. And now that it was too late, the words flowed from her like water.

“I love you.”

She glanced down, noticing his lips. Remember that almost kiss they shared, before the structured house of cards came crashing down.

Overcome with grief, sadness, want, and passion, Felicity leaned down and pressed her lips against Oliver’s.

There was a pull in her gut, a swirling, tugging, yanking, sensation, as a steady stream of essence flowed from her to him.  His lips were soft, but had the feeling of home, of safety, something she had been missing since her mother had died. Her hands clenched, one around his neck, the other fell on the floor to steady her.

A stem was felt under her palm. She had totally forgotten about the rose the barista--no, _Oliver_ had given her. The rose she had dropped in her haste to help him. Her fingers curled around it as she pushed into him harder, trying to merge her to him.

Somehow she knew that whatever was happening was momentous.

Oliver moved, suddenly, unexpectedly, underneath her, returning her kiss. He gasped into her mouth, arms coming up to encircle her torso, a hand cradling her neck. Their tongues battled and the chaste kiss turned more passionate, more heated. She thirsted for more of him, the feeling of him holding her, encasing her.

Felicity wanted to become one with him.

Abruptly she was lifted up, Oliver’s strong arms holding her to him, her chest against his. His arms secure around her thighs and torso. She lost herself in their kiss, ignoring the painful protests of her lungs.

It was him that pulled away, ragged breaths, racking them both.  Oliver had moved them to the edge of her bed,not yet placing her on it, the back of her legs hitting the comforter. He attacked her neck, while her hands moved over his back.

All the wounds had closed, barely raised skin where they had been. There was no blood either. Except…

She pulled her neck away from Oliver, looking at her hand. The thorns had cut into her flesh, and now her hand was covered in red. And gold. Their blood had mingled on her palm, running together.

Oliver had turned his head and looked at her hand as well. Tightening his arm around her thighs, supporting her, he took his free hand and gently grasped her wrist. He brought the hand to his mouth, and ritualistically, licked, then sucked the blood off her hand.

She gasped, the strange motions turning her on, cascading need like a fiery torment through her skin and down to her core.

Oliver turned his blue eyes to her, and she watched as they turned gold, red gold, right before he leaned in and kissed her again. And again.

She was laid on her back,the soft pillows under her head, still held captive by his kisses. Her hands wandered to his shoulders, to the gigantic wings that spanned her room. Her fingers traced them, and just the sensation made him shudder, and moan, pressing her more fully to the mattress.

Before she could kiss him again, however, he stopped her with a finger pressed to her thoroughly kissed lips.

“Hey. I love you. Do you understand?” A beautiful smile graced his features, that one that she had been determined to pry from him what seemed like years ago. And she had been right. It was devastating.

But she couldn’t return the smile.By speaking, he had pulled her out of the moment. She realized what they were doing, what they had been about to do. He had made her forget that he was a monster in the few breif moments they had stolen. He wasn’t just a boy and she wasn’t just a girl. They were star-crossed, ill-matched, but perfectly imperfect for each other.  Just looking at his beautiful face, the face she loved, had her stomach turning over. This man had murdered her mother, in cold blood, in the name of love.

How could she love a man who did that?

Felicity shoved him off, rolling out from under him. She ducked his wing, of which he pulled in against his back.

She ignored him as he reached out for her, following her.

“Felicity… I don’t understand.” The plea in Oliver’s voice was almost her undoing. But she held strong. “I thought… I mean you said--”

“I said I love you.” She met his eyes, unflinching. She didn’t care if he went into a rage and killed her. She was done with this song and dance. “I never said that I forgave you. I healed you, like you wanted. Now you can go.”

Oliver walked to the door, opening it.

“What? Not going to attempt drag me to your precious Sanctuary?”

He didn’t turn around. “No.”

“I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

“I have a war to fight, Felicity.” He finally turned around, deep sadness etched into the lines of his face. “And you have a choice.. Yes, I consider you mine, but I can see that it disgusts you.  That so-called curse, it never was a curse. Your great grandmother wanted the war to end. She let your father do what he wanted because she knew that that was the only way. She sacrificed her daughter, and her granddaughter for the greater good. Your father killed your ancestors to spare them the pain of watching him take generation after generation.

“There is no binding contract. Your father tried to explain it to your mother, but she didn’t listen. She misunderstood, the story corrupt from several generations.  I cannot force you to come with me. I can kidnap you if you prefer, but the Glory and the Damned have to become entwined for it to work. For the prophecy to be fulfilled, and for Hell’s Army to be defeated. You have to _want_ to come. If you do, but it won’t be easy. I need your help. I’m not the easiest being, nor the most patient, and there will be a lot of killing.

“Or you can stay here. It’s your choice. It’s always been your choice.”

Felicity stared at him, not willing to believe in his words. For years, she had thought she was cursed, forced to bear the burdens of an immoral state. But now… for once… she has a choice.

And she knows which one she’s going to make.

 

_fin_

* * *

* * *

Edit: Because I had a question about how Oliver killing Felicity's partners and her not being allowed to be free who to love is dangerous and not at all romantic and I feel that that issue needs to be addressed here as well:  

_Oliver is bad. There is a reason that Felicity calls him a monster. Its not in anyway supposed to be romantic, him killing all the romantic partners. Its more of Oliver's belief that Felicity was created for him, and to have anyone touch her defiles her. He kills them in revenge._

_Just because Felicity loves him, doesnt mean she should. She's seen the better side if him, the concerned, caring, protective version of Oliver. That's who she fell in love with. Now she's seen the darker side of him. The one that is vicious and full of anger._

_Also, you have to realize that Oliver is basically considered immortal. He was an angel who saw the fragility of human life until he committed a sin by raping a woman and becoming an incubus. Therefore, in his mind, Felicity is the prize, the goal, the trophy that needs rescuing from the evil dragons that keep Felicity from being his. He's being selfish. THIS IS UNHEALTHY. THIS IS VERY BAD._

_This is why I didnt want to make the decision for Felicity, in whether she accepts him, good and bad, or rejects him. This is a story of  being careful about who you fall in love with. Felicity is torn at the end, between her love for the good she sees in him, and her fear of his manipulative and possessive demeanor. Between her destiny and her agency. It is up to you, the reader, to decide which Felicity will pick._

 

 

_I hope that explains where I was coming from. If you have any more concerns, please go a head and comment._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. If you enjoyed this fic, and wondering what else you should do, this would be an excellent time to subscribe to me! I write only Olicity, and they tend to be AUs. Or you could just read everything else I've written. I recommend the [ "Mirror Verse" ](http://archiveofourown.org/series/369095) or [ His Eyes, Her Feet ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4733294).
> 
> 2\. GO CHECK OUT thatmasquedgirl's FIC RIGHT NOW BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING ELSE. It's called [ the Edge of Hope](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7783339/chapters/17754316) and it's a fantastic AU of Pacific Rim and Olicity. No knowledge of Pacific Rim required, trust me. I'm greatly enjoying it and I've never seen Pacific Rim. Now that you're finished with my story, her's is the perfect one to go to. She's really low on hits for how great a story she has which is a damn shame. She updates every Friday, because the story is complete, and it has three chapters. GO CHECK IT OUT!


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